Chapter 389: The Shark Knight Unleashed
Boom!
Just as Black Manta's group was about to step into the corridor, a figure suddenly dropped from the sky, landing right between the frogmen troops and the Extremis-enhanced soldiers.
"Who are you?"
David looked at the unfamiliar man standing before him, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
"You attack my people's habitat, and you dare ask who I am?" Namor responded furiously, a trident already appearing in his hand.
Over the years, his people had mined vibranium and forged a weapon for him—one rivaling a divine artifact. It also had a retractable design, making it easy to carry at all times.
"Namor!"
David narrowed his eyes coldly. "You should be grateful I didn't wipe you all out."
"I'll send you to atone to my fallen kin."
Namor shifted into a combat stance.
"Take him out," David ordered impatiently.
With the Dark Trident so close, revenge was finally within reach. He couldn't allow any unexpected disruptions to ruin his plans.
Ah—
Thud!
Just as the fight was about to break out, another figure crashed to the ground beside Namor.
"Captain America?" David froze in surprise, staring at the new arrival in a Captain America uniform. Then he glanced up toward the glacier above—easily a hundred meters high.
Anyone falling from that height, even Cap, should've been dead on impact.
Of course, it wasn't actually Captain America. It was Allen once again attempting a dramatic superhero entrance.
Unfortunately, his landing pose still needed work.
"Sorry, the ground was slippery," Allen muttered casually as he hopped to his feet. He slung the round shield off his back and struck a flamboyant pose. "Your daddy can fight for twenty-four hours straight."
"..."
Namor cast him a sideways glance, clearly unimpressed. Was this really the time to make dumb jokes?
Boom!
Suddenly, a towering figure nearly two meters tall landed behind the frogmen troops.
"Grandpa, I've got the bad guys surrounded," Morgan declared confidently, pointing a toilet plunger at David's group like a massive door come to life.
Who the hell was that?
David was utterly dumbfounded. The kid looked about six, but her massive frame was something out of a comic book.
Meanwhile, T'Challa, fully suited in his Black Panther armor, was sliding down the glacier wall, one hand dragging across the ice to slow his descent—like snowboarding on a sheer cliff.
Luckily, everyone recognized Black Panther. He was a famous superhero.
After all, in the name of American political correctness, they were eager to promote a Black superhero to showcase their supposed moral superiority.
"It's you people!?"
At the far end of the corridor, Jack recognized the ones who had humiliated him before.
"Hey, buddy!" Allen greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Don't tell me you're hoping I'll treat you to some 98.6-degree hot beer again."
Jack froze for a second, realizing what "hot beer" really meant.
The scarring memory of being urinated on—something he had nearly managed to repress—suddenly surged back.
Allen had actually dared to piss on them before leaving. An unforgivable and burning humiliation.
"I'm going to break your bones one by one!"
Jack was seething, like a furious lion about to explode. The veins beneath his skin glowed faintly with fiery light, as if his body were a cracked boiler about to burst.
Thud!
Allen raised his shield and caught the incoming punch.
Even the vibranium shield trembled slightly—proof of the sheer power behind the strike.
"I treated you to a hot drink and this is how you repay me? I'm actually getting a little pissed off now," Allen growled, throwing a punch of his own.
Clang!
"Ow..."
It was like slamming into a steel plate. Allen winced and shook his hand. "What the hell—are you juiced up?"
Just one clash made it clear how terrifying the Extremis warrior's power was. The super soldier serum combined with Extremis virus enhancements had amplified Jack's strength by multiple levels.
Even Allen, with his seventy-two-times-enhanced physique, was struggling to keep up.
"I'm going to kill you!"
Jack pressed the advantage. The other Extremis warriors swarmed in for a ferocious assault.
"I'll block it!"
Thud!
"I'll block again!"
Boom!
"Still blocking!"
Clang!
Allen, wielding his shield, relied on his exceptional sensory ability to intercept every incoming blow.
While the Extremis soldiers were superior in raw strength—possibly even surpassing Allen—his all-rounded enhancements made him a "hexagon warrior" who could outmaneuver and withstand their attacks with ease.
At the same time, Namor charged at his enemy.
The frogmen troops immediately split into two squads—one to hold off Black Panther and Morgan, the other focusing their firepower on Namor.
Unable to tank the energy blasts head-on, Namor relied on his vibranium trident for defense, hoping to get close enough to kill Black Manta.
"Send half of the Extremis soldiers to hold them back!" David shouted to the others.
He had seen ten of them besiege a single foe, who still handled them with ease. He figured five would be enough to stall the others.
As long as he reached the palace and claimed the Dark Trident—tapping into the power of the evil god—he could still reverse the situation and crush the four intruders.
Upon receiving the command, five Extremis warriors veered off toward the others.
Morgan was darting left and right in pain, desperately dodging energy blasts. While the attacks didn't cause real harm, they still stung—especially for a six-year-old, whose first instinct was to run.
Only T'Challa, clad head-to-toe in vibranium armor, was immune to energy attacks. His suit could absorb and even store energy to reflect it back.
As agile as a panther, he pounced at the nearest frogman.
Through the transparent visor of the frogman's armored helmet, his face was stricken with terror. He tried to dodge, but the bulky armor slowed him down.
In his panic, he closed his eyes.
Boom!
At the last second, an Extremis warrior intervened—delivering a devastating punch that sent T'Challa flying.
The battle slipped into a deadlock.
Morgan was overwhelmed by the seemingly unkillable Extremis soldiers. T'Challa was the equivalent of one Extremis warrior.
Namor was alone, fending off ten frogmen.
Allen was still dodging five attackers.
Seeing all this, David confidently strode toward the palace. There was no one left to stop his plan.
"He's definitely up to something! Can anyone stop him?" T'Challa shouted anxiously.
"Could he be after that thing?!" Namor muttered, his expression darkening as he glanced around and a terrible thought surfaced—memories of a shameful, long-buried history.
Due to a past bout of amnesia, Namor had to relearn his people's history from old records. From those, he'd uncovered secrets they'd rather forget.
But it was already too late. Black Manta had entered the palace.
"Shark Knight, charge!"
RAAAAH!!!
Just as the stalemate continued, Morgan sprang into action. In one quick move, she darted over to T'Challa, grabbed him by the leg like a ragdoll, and began slamming him into the Extremis soldiers.
It was like watching Hulk smash Loki into submission—iconic and relentless.
Fortunately, T'Challa's vibranium suit kept him safe, effectively turning him into a bludgeoning weapon. Still, inside the suit, his world was spinning as confusion clouded his mind.
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